


Blame it on the Flood

by Nomelah



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt and comfort, I'm anticipating 6-7 chapters, I've given it anxiety, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Pre Recall, Slow Burn, This was supposed to be a fun lightish fic, but look what I've done, currently in hiatus, i am trash, promise it gets better, reader has a boyfriend for a couple chapters, this is kinda crappily written but ok, young Jesse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-20 04:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8235944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomelah/pseuds/Nomelah
Summary: A knock at your door during a flash flood was unheard of. Finding a dying man at your doorstep was even more so. Having that same man return to your doorstep every few months or so for medical care, well that was just crazy.





	1. Flood

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. I said I'd update my other fic, but I am so muse dead for that one, it's not even ok. This fic is fun to write, and I've actually got a plan for it, which makes it even better.
> 
> Enjoy!

The rain started to fall as your friend pulled out of your driveway. It started to pour in sheets five minutes later. Must have been a flash flood. By the time you'd received a text from him, saying he'd made it home safely, thunder and lightning cracked dangerously above, and the rain pummeled everything outside. A flash flood alert pinged on your phone.

Your forehead pressed into the cold window, each exhale fogging the glass. Your eyes desperately tried to make out anything farther than six feet away to no avail. A shiver shook your body, and you jolted away from the window and turned back to your small living room. 

It was small, but comfortable and put together well. A couch faced a wall covered in bookshelves and a large TV. You grabbed the remote from the coffee table, flicking on the TV and flopping limply onto the couch. A flash flood advisory was plastered on the screen. Suddenly, the TV shut off, and the lights flickered out.

"Shit." You breathed. 

The house was dark now, the downpour and black clouds above blocked out any light that could've filtered in. You stood, pulling the lighter out from your pocket. Your cold hands fumbled for a couple seconds before you finally got it to light. You crossed the room, lighting the candles on your bookshelf. 

The lighter was tucked away and you grabbed a candle from the shelf, its flickering light sending wavering golden rays of light across your arm. Your small eating area was connected perpendicularly to the living room, and before continuing to the kitchen, you paused to light the candles.

Your phone chimed, and you checked it while standing in the doorway of the kitchen. A text from your boss was on the screen.

'All surgeries cancelled for two days, roads are too dangerous to drive. Stay safe.'

You felt a twinge of disappointment at this. You enjoyed your job as an anesthesiologist. You were still new to it, only two months into residency. Despite this, you wouldn't deny it, a break would be nice. 

Tucking the phone away, you stepped into the kitchen. You grabbed a saucepan after lighting the candles scattered throughout the room. Setting down the saucepan, you turned the gas stove to low, igniting it with the lighter. Blue flames quickly shot up, and you drew your hand away with a smirk on your face. 

You sprayed the pan and quickly started to dice vegetables, tossing them into the heating pan. You pulled out your phone, connecting your earbuds and starting some music. 

You danced around the kitchen while cooking, the smells of sautéing celery, carrots, and onions wafting through the dimly lit room. Music and the sizzling pan filled the room with noise, but thunder could still be heard overhead. 

Eventually, the meal prep was done, and you were left to wait while it cooked. The music was silenced and the earbuds pulled from your ears. You found yourself leaning against the fridge with an unlit cigarette hanging limply from your lips. Your hands held the lighter up, and before you could light it, you were startled into dropping the lighter onto the ground.

Had somebody knocked at the door? 

Your eyebrows drew together, and you paused, craning your neck around to attempt to get a glance at the front door. You couldn't see anything outside, granted the windows were frosted, but nobody was there. Your eyes remained glued to the door as you knelt down to grab the lighter. You straightened back up, flicking the lighter on after a few unsuccessful attempts.

A frantic knocking on wood sounded in the small house, there was no way that was thunder. You lit the cigarette, a puzzled expression on your face. Who would be out right now? Why would they be out? 

Tucking the lighter away in your back pocket, you quickly made your way down the hall to the main entrance. Looking through the peephole in the door showed nothing, but you swung the door open nonetheless.

Wind slammed into you, and the door swung from your grasp, slamming into the shoe rack on the wall next to it. Rain pelted in, and you had to shield your eyes. After this half-second adjustment, you found yourself staring down at the doubled over form of a man. 

"Help me." He groaned, and his hand dropped from his waist. You couldn't see it clearly, but there was no doubt about it, his hand was coated in blood. Dread flooded your senses, and without thinking you were next to him, his arm wrapping around your shoulder for support. Your arms wrapped around his waist, and you couldn't ignore the warm blood soaking your arm. 

You carried him in the best you could, leading him to the couch and laying him down gently. You hurried back to the door, about to slam it shut, until you noticed the soaked cowboy hat on the porch. You snatched it, and slammed the door. 

"Shit." You murmured around the cigarette, running a hand through your wet hair. You rushed to the bathroom, grabbing your first aid kit before heading back to the living room. The man was curled up into fetal position, his arms wrapped tight around his blood soaked abdomen. When he noticed your presence again, his face contorted from pain into panic. 

"I can't-" he groaned, but you shook your head, your shaking hands unbuttoning his shirt. "I can't be here. Too- dangerous." 

Your fumbling moments halted for a moment while you made eye contact with the man. He must have been your age, his face was youthful. His brown eyes were young. What the hell had happened to him? 

"I have to see the injury."

"Can treat it- m'self." He groaned, his eyes squinting shut as a pained expression contorted his face. The man made didn't move his arms an inch. 

"Please, I need to see it." 

"No. I just need- supplies." He gasped, and his face screwed up again. 

"I'm a doctor. Let me help."

"Need to get away from people." 

Realization dawned on you with this statement, and your eyes widened. This wasn't an accident. Not some freak happening as result from the storm. Somebody was out to kill him. 

"What's the injury?"

"Gun-shot..." He groaned, and your suspicions were confirmed. Your shaking hands were placed on his soaking arms. 

"Please. I want to help." You spoke softly. His eyes met yours, and he slowly allowed you to move his arms away from the injury. In the dim lighting, you couldn't make out much, his button up shirt was brown, the blood blended in. Your nervous fingers continued unbuttoning the shirt, desperately trying not to pass out. There was so much blood. Surgeries were never this bloody. 

The shirt was sopping wet with blood and rain, and it landed with a wet smack on the hardwood floors after you peeled it from his soaked body. Your hands shook. You steeled your nerves as you forced yourself to look at the wound. First things first, you'd have to stop this bleeding. 

"I'll be right back." You jumped up from your knees, a million thoughts running through your mind. Thunder boomed overhead as you ran to the linen closet in the hallway. The door swung open and you grabbed all the towels you could hold. Taking a deep breath, you closed the closet door.

...

You'd finally stopped the bleeding. Bloody towels lay discarded around you on the floor. The man eventually passed out on the couch. It was a miracle he was alive, he should've been dead. There was no internal bleeding you could see, and all of his organs were safe. The bullet had managed to enter through the side of his abdomen, leaving a relatively clean entrance wound. You'd managed to remove it too, despite the low lighting. Earlier, you tried placing more candles around him to get more light, but you'd gotten lightheaded from the smoke and had to move them back. 

You pulled the rubber gloves off of your hands, leaning back against the coffee table as you watched him sleep. The wound had been bandaged, but he'd still need to seek better care. You'd done the best you could do. 

Your eyes were drawn to the bullet on the floor where you'd been operating. The bullet was coated in blood. You sighed, wiping a hand down over your face, grimacing at the headache that was pounding in your head. You stood reluctantly and headed to the kitchen. 

The soup on the stove was done. Savory aromas of chicken noodle soup wafted through the house, making your stomach growl. You took off the lid, stirring the soup and setting the flame to low. You replaced the lid and grabbed a sandwich bag. 

Making your way to the living room again, you could dimly make out the sounds of the man groaning in his sleep. You sat back down on the floor in front of him, leaning back against the coffee table. You picked up the bullet carefully, dropping it into the sandwich bag and sealing the top. 

A sigh left your parted lips as you stared at the man. His face was twisted into a pained expression, even in his sleep. His wavy brown hair was plastered to his face from sweat. A faint stubble peppered his face. Some time ago, he'd finally dried off from the rain. He had been here for six hours now, you noted as you checked the clock hanging on the wall. 

"What happened to you?" You murmured, examining his twisted face. "Who are you?" Your eyes closed and you shivered, drawing your arms around your shaking body. 

"Jesse." His accented response caused you to jolt upright, and your eyes flew open. His brows were drawn down over his intensely dark eyes. He shook with a cough, and he broke away from your eye contact. You turned, grabbing the sandwich bag and holding it out to him. 

"I fixed you up as best I could. You should be alright, but I recommend seeing a hospital." He weakly took the bag from your hand, examining the bullet. His eyes peered up at you from under his brows, a twinge of confusion written on his face. 

"Thanks." Jesse sat up, swinging his legs over and wrapping an arm around his gut. He was close to you, his body a mere foot from yours. You pulled your legs up onto the coffee table, scooching a few inches away.

"What's your name?" He asked hoarsely. You wet your lips, eyes caught in his sharp stare as you murmured your response.

He nodded, and it was quiet again. You looked back out to the storm. 

"I need to go." Jesse mumbled.

You looked up in shock, your eyes wide. Seeing his dead serious face caused an incredulous scoff to cross your expression.

"What?! Are you crazy? Someone is after you! And if they don't kill you, the flood will. Add infection to the list too. I won't let you leave until that storm is over and you're a bit better." 

A faint smirk appeared on his face, and a flash of lightning illuminated his features. You stood, leaving the man with few words as you scanned his abdomen quickly.

"You need a shirt."

...

"Boyfriend's?" He asked with a smirk as he caught the tee shirt.

"Just a friend's." You mumbled, leaning against the doorway to the dining room. 

"Good." You arched an eyebrow, and he shot you a wolfish grin. "I hate sharing." Jesse shrugged, and you rolled your eyes, watching him pull the shirt on. It was too big for him. Fighting back a smirk, you pushed off the wall and walked to the kitchen.

You grabbed two ceramic bowls from the pantry, setting them delicately down onto the granite countertop. Grabbing a ladle, you removed the lid to the pot and ladled soup into each bowl. You replaced the lid and set down the ladle. Gently grabbing the bowls, you carefully made your way back to the living room. 

Jesse shot you an odd look as you held out the bowl to him. He hesitantly took it, mumbling his thanks. 

"Be careful, it's hot." You sat at the coffee table, crossing your legs. He blew on his soup before taking a bite. His face lit up, and he started to quickly spoon more food into his mouth. You wondered when he last ate. 

Soon enough, you were both done. He'd eaten three bowls. You refused to give him a fourth. You already had to clean up his blood. You didn't need to clean up vomit. 

"Who is chasing you?"

He tensed, the muscles in his arms flexing. Jesse didn't answer.

"I took you in, I deserve to know." He sighed deeply, his eyes closing. He chewed his lip.

"Bounty hunters." Your blood froze. Jesse sighed again.

"So they're after you still?"

He nodded, his brown eyes opening to meet yours.

"You're not safe as long as I'm here."

He mumbled, an angered expression twisting his face. His hand was a fist, and he looked deadly in that quick moment, reminding you just how little you knew about him.

"Okay."

He looked to you quickly, his angered expression gone and a new shock on his face. 

"I chose to help you, and I'll live with the consequences of my actions." 

He grinned. 

"Remind me of Ana." 

"Girlfriend?" 

He caught your teasing tone and grinned, shaking his head.

"Just a friend."

...

When you woke, the rain had stopped, light drifted into your room through the window. The events of the previous night hit you like a truck, and you jolted up from your bed, sprinting from your room and down the stairs to the living room. 

"Jesse? Hey, Jesse? Where are you?!" 

The house was silent. You knew the answer, but didn't want to accept it yet. Jesse was still too injured too leave. 

"Jesse?" You checked the other rooms, finding no sign of him. Turning back to the living room, you spotted the note on the coffee table. You rushed over, grabbing the note.

'Thanks. Couldn't stay.

-Jesse McCree'


	2. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He said he'd lost his arm in a hypertrain situation. You didn't doubt it.

"I could use your help right around now." He muttered, his face pale with shock and his balance quickly slipping away as he stood on the porch. His right hand holding the bleeding stump where his lower left arm had once been.

.....

Your life had returned to relative normalcy. The flood had blocked roads for a few days, but there hadn't been any flood related casualties. Work was cancelled only for two days, but your boss had allowed you time off until the roads were safe to drive. You were okay with it. Hell, you were still trying to wrap your head around what had happened. 

A month later, and you had nearly managed to push him from your mind. Life was back to its usual rhythm. You distracted yourself. You'd started to date a guy, you took extra shifts. You focused on your career. 

You'd attempted to stop thinking about him. Of course, the folded towels in your linen closet that still had faint pink bloodstains didn't help. And the folded note tucked away in your bedside table didn't help you either. 

You couldn't get him off of your mind. The injured cowboy that showed up at your doorstep during a flash flood. A wanted man. Maybe a criminal. A murderer. You didn't know. 

And now here he was, back at your doorstep, two months later, when you had thought you could maybe get back to your life. 

.....

Your face paled, and you quickly thanked whatever higher power there was that your boyfriend had just left.

"What did you do this time?" You rushed to his side, supporting his body and getting a rush of déjà vu as you helped him inside and to the couch.

"A hypertrain was involved, I'll give you that bit." He groaned, his face contorted. Somehow, you weren't surprised. You winced at the idea, going to the Iinen closet to grab the bloodstained towels. You tossed them into the living room and went to get the first aid kit. "Left me to bleed out, should've ended the job, cause I done made it here." He was grinning, but he looked about ready to pass out.

You knelt down to eye level with the injury, squeezing your hands into a pair of exam gloves. You carefully pulled his hand away, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off of him. The bloodied shirt was missing its lower left sleeve, apparently having been lost with the arm. His eyes were dark, and he didn't meet your eye. You pressed a towel to the wound. 

"So they won't come looking for you, will they? They think you're dead, right?" You asked, biting your lip. He nodded, and you noted the cold sweat on his face. You switched the hand holding the towel to the stump, pressing the back your dominant hand to his forehead. His burning eyes met yours with a feverish intensity. 

"I'm sorry."

You nodded, quickly pulling your hand away and applying more pressure to the wound. The blood soaked through. The knot in your stomach worsened, and you folded the towel in half. 

"Are you ever gonna tell me why?" You murmured, a worried smile finding its way to your face. He looked confused, drawing his brows together and over his eyes. "Why they're after you?" 

He seemed to want to say something, the words making their way to the edge of his tongue before he quickly shut his mouth. His brown eyes glared at the floor.

"It's complicated."

"Okay. I won't force it out of you." You took the towel away, grabbing a fresh towel and pressing it to the injury. His breathing was labored. 

.....

"Somehow, you lucked out again. It was a clean injury, the arm was completely severed, the blood vessels spasmed and pulled back, preventing you from bleeding to your death."

"If you could call that luck, losin' an arm." Your face flushed red with guilt, and a quick look at his face showed he wasn't angry with your careless comment. You bit your lip. 

The wound had been bandaged, and he wore another of your boyfriend's shirts. The shirt was still too big on him. Your boyfriend was taller, and more muscled. It was no wonder. You averted your eyes. 

"So do you want anything to eat?" You asked, your voice struggling to remain neutral. He nodded. The color had returned to his face, his body seeming to have calmed down a little from the shock. You noted this as you stood to make your way to the kitchen. 

As you rummaged through the fridge, Jesse sat down at the dining room table. You shot him a glance. His face was pressed into the palm of his hand, his hat set gently down onto the table. You paused, examining him.

"Anything in particular you want?"

"Anything is fine." 

The microwave beeped, and you quickly grabbed the plate and some silverware. Walking back into the dining room, you placed the food down in front of the cowboy. You leaned on the doorway to the kitchen, watching him for a moment.

"Mighty kind." 

"So will you be taking off tonight?" Your tone was mildly teasing, but he looked up to you with a solemn stare. The minuscule smirk on your face dropped. 

"If y'want me to." 

"I didn't mean it like that. Feel free to stay as long as you need." You paused, and then added: "just know that I have a career, and I have a boy-." You trailed off. He sent you a look. "A lot of visitors." You corrected. 

"So what's he like?" Jesse took a bite, but his eyes remained glued on you.

"Huh?" Your brows drew together, a puzzled act on your face. He rolled his eyes.

"Your boyfriend. What's he like?"

Your face flushed, and an indignant scowl was set in your expression.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I hate liars." He growled, and your heart began to race. Sometimes you forgot that you didn't know the man. You chewed your lip. 

"He's a good guy." You mumbled, searching your mind. Jesse smirked, rolling his eyes. He looked bored.

"What? What's wrong with that?" You grumbled, crossing your arms.

"Ain't you ever bored?" 

"No! He's my best friend, I really like him! We've known each other since we were kids!" You scowled, and the wolfish grin on his face deepened.

"Which just proves my point. It's boring. You know each other too well to have fun." Your jaw dropped, your eyebrows arched high above your wide eyes. Jesse shrugged, dropping his fork onto his now empty plate. "Thanks for the food." 

You rolled your eyes, and he stood, grabbing his plate. Before leaving the room, he stopped in the slim doorway you were in. His body turned to face yours, and you were made aware of the mere inches between the two of you.

"I learned that getting to know a person is the best part." He murmured, his eyes holding your gaze. You found yourself unable to look away. His face was strangely solemn. You noticed the faint scars on his chin, and the laughter lines traced into his skin. His lips were chapped. You couldn't breathe, and your heart raced. Finally, he turned, continuing into the kitchen. You felt lightheaded. You gasped for air, quickly regaining your composure.

"Is it alright if I hop into the shower?" He asked from the kitchen, his back to you as he scrubbed the plate. 

"Uh... yeah." Your voice was hoarse. You cleared your throat. "Knock yourself out."

"Mighty kind."

.....

"If you don't mind me asking, what's your story? I know hardly anything about you." You sat in the chair across from his, examining him as he tipped his chair onto its back legs. His expression was mild, but his eyes were dark.

"I answer your question, and I get to ask you one." He smirked. 

"Fine." You answered. Jesse's grin deepened, and a twinge of unease prickled in your gut. 

"Was a part of Deadlock Gang, up 'til when I was around twenty."

"You guys were busted though, right? There was barely any coverage on the news, although it immediately affected many people. Some say it was Overwatch." Questions raced through your mind, and suddenly it felt as though you wouldn't have enough time to ask them all.

"Was it Overwatch? What happened to you?" You queried, until a new question came up. "How old are you?"

Jesse only smirked. 

"'Fraid I can't answer that until you answer my question." Disappointment surged through you, and then annoyance.

"What's your job?"

"I'm an anesthesiologist resident." You spit out, eager for his answers. He only gave a low whistle. You gave him a puzzled look.

"Must be older than I thought. You haven't aged a day over twenty five."

Oh.

"I am twenty five. I got through high school earlier than most, and finished college and med school much quicker than my classmates."

"Fancy that. You're a smart one." He tipped his chair back forward, and the front legs of the chair landed on the hardwood floor with a bang. 

"Your turn to answer. Was it Overwatch who busted the Deadlock Gang?" The expression on his face was guarded. He pulled his hat down over his eyes.

"Yeah." He sighed.

"What aren't you telling me?" You realized he'd answered your question, but you weren't completely satisfied. Thankfully, he carried on.

"Because I was a damn good shot, they gave me two choices. Rot in prison, or join them. And I ain't in prison, so you know what I chose."

"Woah," you breathed. A smile tugged at the edges of his chapped lips. 

"My turn." His hat was tipped back up, revealing his brown eyes again.

"Why did you lie when you said you loved him?" Your jaw dropped, and disbelief ran through you. His face was somber and serious. You felt color flush to your cheeks, and then you were angry.

"That's inappropriate." You got out. His face was unchanged. "I do love him. I didn't lie! Now stop asking me about him." Your guilt said otherwise however. Jesse shrugged, seeming to let it drop.

"Fine."

"Fine!" You shot back, bristling with anger. You sighed, collecting yourself. "After Overwatch was disbanded, what did you do?"

"I left before it was disbanded. Roamed around for a bit. But a lot of people want me dead. I'm thinking of taking up bounty hunter work." His voice was tired. His hand drew down his face, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm done askin' questions. I need a cigar. You got any?"

You shook your head. 

"Afraid not. I've got cigarettes though." He nodded and mumbled a thanks.

.....

He left the next afternoon, the only evidence he'd ever been at your house was the few bloodstained towels and a destroyed shirt.


	3. Poor Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You doubted there was a worse time he could've showed up. At least he wasn't bleeding everywhere this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second update today because I'm a nerd and I have no life. Anyways, this is a really fun fic to write, and I've already got Chapter 4 in the works. Lots of stuff is planned, and things are about to get heavy here.

The moonlight drifting in through the open window cast a silver shine onto your naked and sweaty bodies. You were tangled up in the sheets with him, your body entwined with his. Your heart still pounded, and you had finally settled your breathing. The cold air from the window caused steam to drift up and off of your bare, shining bodies. The occasional gust of wind made the curtains float up with the breeze. A faint smile was on his face as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. 

All of this was interrupted by the chiming of the doorbell. 

You jolted upright, tearing yourself from his arms. He looked puzzled and amused as he sat up with you. 

"Who could it be at this hour?" He murmured. 

You knew who it was. Jesse had been visiting every couple of weeks. Sometimes injured, sometimes not. It had been three weeks since his last visit. Not surprising, considering the fight you'd gotten into with him.

"I don't know." You lied, feeling a twinge of guilt, but also strangely happy. You wouldn't admit it to Jesse, but you did like him. He got on your nerves, and said inappropriate things, but you saw him as a friend. You'd missed him.

Your boyfriend didn't know Jesse even existed. And you'd keep it like that. It was too dangerous for him to find out. Hell, your knowledge of the former Overwatch agent was dangerous enough. 

"I'll get it." Your boyfriend smiled, and started to stand up, but you shook your head. 

"I can get it. Get back to bed." You stood, crossing the room to grab his tee shirt and a pair of your panties. You stumbled over something in the dark, but you pulled them on quickly. The doorbell chimed again. 

Your bare feet padded down the hardwood stairs quickly, your hand running down the wall for support. At the end of the stairs, you threw open the door.

Jesse's silhouette stood on the porch, a cigar between his lips. You shivered in the cold air. Your arm reached out to flick on the porch light. You could see him now, he wasn't injured. 

He opened his mouth to say something, taking the cigar between his index and thumb of his bionic hand. You pulled your finger up to your lips to shush him He looked annoyed by this motion. 

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't order those pizzas. You must have the wrong house." You spoke. Understanding lighted on his face. He then seemed to realize what you were wearing, and his eyes traced down your sweaty and barely clothed body. Your hair was a mess, and your cheeks and lips flushed. A few hickeys were on your neck and collarbone. You glared at him, but he smirked, shrugging.

"Alright, do you know who might have ordered them?" He replied.

"Why are you here? You're not injured, and it's one in the morning." You hissed quietly. He made an annoyed shrug.

"No, I'm sorry. Have a nice night." You spoke. 

"Thought you'd appreciate an apology." He whispered. You rolled your eyes. 

"You too ma'am." You motioned for him to come inside, and you closed the door behind him. 

You turned, facing the stairs and away from the cowboy at your back. You drew a hand down your face, suddenly tired. 

"Ughhh." You groaned. 

"Hey, apologies. I thought you'd like to see me!" He whispered, and you heard him take a step towards you. You spun around on your heel, throwing your hands up.

"Not when my boyfriend is upstairs!" You whispered.

"Oh, am I a threat to your relationship now? I thought we were just friends!" He hissed.

"We are. We are just friends. But he is upstairs, and I can't deal with you right now." You sighed, shoulders suddenly slumping and you sat down on the stairs. 

"I'm sorry." He knelt down, and his hand tentatively rested on your shoulder. "It's my bad. We need to find a way to communicate. I was scared of them bounty hunters somehow finding out about you an' huntin' you down."

You nodded, and his hand left your shoulder. 

"You can stay in the guest room tonight." You murmured, standing up. "Be quiet."

.....

"Everything alright?" He mumbled, his face pressed into the pillow. 

"Yeah. Pizza man got a bit lost." You grabbed the sheets and slipped underneath. His hand wrapped around your waist and drew you closer.

"If only Omnics had kept their jobs. There's no human error." He said, his breath hot on the back of your neck.

"After the crisis, there's no way anyone would want an Omnic working for them. It's why people like me in the medical field still have our jobs. Even before the crisis, nobody wants an Omnic performing their surgery." You murmured, your hands drawing circles into the sheets. "Fear of the Omnics outweighs fear of human error." 

A chuckle left his lips. 

"I'm glad it was you who operated on my father. I'd much rather it be you than an Omnic, and it's not because i mistrust bots."

"I only do the anesthetics." 

"But you still helped to save him." 

"It's my job." You shot back. "An Omnic could have done it just as well, if not better." An annoyed huff left his lips. 

"I thought we were going to bed. Not having debates on Omnics and work." He muttered. You rolled your eyes.

"Whatever." You grumbled.

His arm unwrapped from your waist, and you felt him flip onto his other side. 

"Goodnight." 

.....

He left early in the morning for work. You were off today, but you still woke up early. You were still wearing the clothes from last night. Your cold hands wrapped around the scalding hot coffee mug on the small kitchen table. It burned your palms, but it brought you back down to reality.

You drew your knees up to your chest, taking a sip of the coffee and burning your tongue. You swore, jolting away from the mug and putting it back down onto the table. Your eyes went to the window, resting on the red mountain in the distance.

"Everything okay?" His southern drawl brought you back down to reality. You turned your head to look at him. Jesse leaned into the kitchen doorway, wearing casual clothes. His hat was off, you noted. He ran his bionic hand through his brown locks, and kept his hand there, waiting for your response.

"Yeah." You mumbled. Jesse shot you a look. He had an uncanny ability to tell when you were lying to him. You sighed, your eyes flirting back down to the mug on the table. 

"No."

"Wanna talk 'bout it?" He asked, his hand leaving his hair and looping into the waistband of his jeans. 

"No." You whispered, your arms wrapping around your knees and drawing them closer to you. 

"That's alright." He pushed off of the doorframe and took a couple steps into the kitchen. "Have you had anything to eat this morning?" You shook your head, your eyes looking down at the mug. "I'll make you something."

He nodded to himself, and he made himself busy. Soon the kitchen was full of the sounds of cooking food and the smell of eggs.

"You want music?" He asked, and he looked over his shoulder to you from the stove. You glanced up.

"Sure." Unfolding yourself, you sat up and grabbed your phone, connecting to the household Bluetooth. He grinned, and you tossed the phone to him. He caught it with ease, and looked to you expectantly. 

"Anything in particular?" You shook your head, and he nodded. "I got some ideas." He spent a moment typing, and then music started to play. 

A trumpet theme opened up the song, and the sounds of guitar followed suit. Strangely enough, you knew the song. You sat up, a grin on your cheeks as you watched Jesse start to sing along. 

You laughed, shaking your head. How fitting. Johnny Cash for the cowboy. 

"Love is a burning thing, and it makes a fiery ring. Bound by wild desire, I fell into a ring of fire." Jesse sang, laughing while doing so. And then his hands were grasping yours. You shook your head, still laughing at him. He continued singing, his hands, one human and the other bionic, refusing to let go of yours. You relented, and stood up to join him. He pulled you close.

"Fine!" You laughed, dancing with the cowboy as you sang along. 

"I fell into a burning ring of fire, I went down, down, down and the flames went higher. And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire, the ring of fire."

He spun you around, his hand steady on your waist. You laughed, throwing your head back as you spun. You were happy like this. He held you carefully, and you felt secure in his arms as he danced with you around the kitchen. The smell of eggs and coffee filled your nose. The music was loud, drowning out your thoughts. This was good.

After a little while the song ended, and the kitchen was yet again quiet, save for the stovetop. His body was close to yours, both of you panting from the dance. Sweat shone on his temple, and you could feel hair stuck to your face. His eyes were mere inches from yours, you could feel his hot breaths on your skin. You licked your lips, and for another moment he held you close like that, until finally he released you, clearing his throat. 

"Sorry." Jesse mumbled, turning back to the pan, and you nodded briskly. You cleared your throat, turning to the dining room.

"Me too."

..... 

"Are the eggs okay?" He was first to break the silence. You forced a smile onto your face.

"Yeah. I like them." You weren't lying, but you felt sick to your stomach. Ever since he'd started coming to your doorstep, you'd felt... guilty. Something felt wrong about seeing him. You didn't mind lying to people about him, you told yourself it was for both his and your safety. But you still felt wrong when seeing him. But mixed in with all of those emotions and thoughts was excitement and happiness at seeing him. His exploits were an adventure that you'd take, even if they were just stories. 

"I make your life a mess." He murmured, his eyes cast down. You jolted awake, your eyes wide.

"No, of course not." You fought.

"Yes, I do."

"Well maybe I like the mess. It's fun." And then you understood his words from his second visit, when his arm had been severed. Getting to know someone was the best part. He was right in that sense. Jesse McCree was anything but boring. 

A smile lighted on his face. 

"You're crazy." 

"Right back at you, Mr. I-lost-my-arm-in-a-hypertrain-accident." He rolled his eyes. The room was quiet.

"We're good, right?" He paused before continuing. "I mean us, we're still friends?" His index finger quickly pointed at you and then him. His face was serious again.

"Yeah." You looked down at your hands. "We're good."

.....

"I forgot to tell you last time you visited, I went shopping and bought you some clothes for your impromptu visits, because you always seem to destroy yours." You carried the cardboard box into the living room and dropped it onto his lap unceremoniously. You sat down across from him, watching his expression. "Plus, my boyfriend was starting to wonder where is shirts disappear to. They don't fit you anyways." He picked up a tee shirt from the box, his face pleased.

"You didn't have to." 

"Yeah I did." You rolled your eyes and continued on. "I made a guess with the size, I think these should fit you." He stood, placing the box next to him. Jesse quickly pulled your boyfriend's shirt off of his body. You bit your lip. Sometimes you forgot just how muscled he was. Although you often saw him shirtless, you rarely acknowledged it. Finally, the shirt was pulled on, and he made a pleased grunt as he examined the shirt.

"It fits nicely." You spoke. He nodded. 

"Sure does." He held up a pair of jeans from the box, grinning. And then before you had even realized it, his pants were being pulled off. You flushed bright red, your head whipping around to look into the dining room instead of his very well endowed body.

"Little warning next time before you take off your pants? Please?" He laughed, and your face flushed an even deeper shade of red. 

"You're good now. I had underwear on, nothing you never seen." You scoffed, turning to look at him. He didn't look bad. In fact, he looked good. You nodded your head curtly. 

"These clothes stay here, okay? So they don't get destroyed?"

He nodded absentmindedly, still checking out his new clothes.

"Sure thing."


	4. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She felt torn apart. So did he. Maybe that was why even each other's comfort only caused more pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flow to this chapter was hard to get down, I wrote it and rewrote it quite a few times, I'm somewhat pleased with this version. Enjoy!

"Our terms are simple, Jesse. You turn yourself in to us, and we let the gal go home safely, no harm done to her." The man's deep voice left the speaker with a crackle. Jesse's grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles going white. His teeth ground together, and he squeezed his eyes shut. The man across the line sighed.

"How about we talk to the gal? Yeah? Here she is." There was a rustling as the phone was moved around, but the woman mentioned didn't silent. "She's just a little quiet right now. We can fix that." There was a whimper across the line, and then the sound of a fist connecting with flesh. The woman gasped, but remained silent. Jesse felt his stomach drop. 

"You know where to find us, Cowboy." The phone in his hand beeped, and the screen showed they had hung up. Jesse swore, slamming the phone down onto the table. 

"God dammit!" He turned, facing the living room. His hand dragged down his face, until dropping back to his side. Jesse's brown eyes watched the ransom note on the coffee table as it fluttered up in the wind from the open window. A million thoughts and emotions raced through his mind.

She had told him the night he was shot that she would live with the consequences. Deadlock him would shrug it off and let her die. Blackwatch him was obligated to go save her. He wasn't either of those men anymore, and found himself split.

She'd saved him time and time again. But would it be putting her work to waste if he died to save her? And then there was no guarantee that they would let her walk free. He wasn't required to go save her. She'd made that clear each time she'd told him she understood the risk. He owed her nothing. 

These were thoughts Deadlock Jesse thought. Jesse hated himself for thinking them, yet they still came. 

...

"Someone decided to be smart then! I'm gonna be honest, I was starting to worry for your friend there." The man gestured to the woman tied into the chair. His left hand held a pistol. Jesse grit his teeth, looking away from her. A bag was over her head, but he could see dark bruises along her arms. He spoke again. "Some of my buddies here thought you wouldn't trade yourself in. I think you're an honorable man, Jesse."

Jesse's dark stare edged onto the man speaking. His fingers twitched. He wanted his gun, but it had been taken at the entrance of the warehouse. 

"You clearly didn't do your reading."

"How's that?" 

"I'm no honorable man."

A man came up on either side, pressing guns to his head. Jesse studied the boss as he spoke.

"We weren't specifically ordered to take you alive. Our employers have some fancy tech for post mortem memory scans. Real futuristic."

Jesse smiled, his response short.

"They won't be using them anytime soon." The boss sent him a dark look, and then nodded to the men on either side of him. Jesse tucked and rolled, and the guns went off. Both men had killed each other. He grabbed a gun from one of the men before anyone could react and quickly dispatched two guards on the balcony upstairs. They fell to the ground below with a thud. Jesse dodged a punch from a man and sent him a punch to the face with his bionic hand. There was a crack as it connected, and blood spurted from the man's broken nose. He collapsed.

He spun around, shooting three more men as they ran towards him. A gunshot rang off that wasn't his, and there was a searing pain in his shoulder. The boss stood next to the woman, laughing.

"I need to get your attention. I'm glad to see you're giving me some. Now put down the gun, or I'm killing her, and then I'll kill you." Jesse paused, he couldn't feel his shoulder from all of the adrenaline coursing through his system. The man shrugged, turning and whipping the bag from her head.

Tears streamed down her face, a black eye had swollen her lids shut on her right side, and her lip was cut. She shook her head, opening her mouth to say something, and the gun went off. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes dull. 

...

"Fuck!" He shouted as he jolted upright from his sheets, his hands covering his eyes. The moonlight streaming through the windows shone on his sweaty body. It had been the fifth time this week he'd had that dream.

Jesse dropped onto his back, slowly drawing his hands from his eyes and staring up at the ceiling. His hands dropped to his sides and with a sigh, he sat up and slid off of the bed.

"She's more work than she's worth." He mumbled as he made his way to his bottle of whiskey on the hotel dresser. Grabbing the bottle, he sat down on the floor, leaving back against the dresser. His brown eyes examined the window. 

It had been a while since he'd last visited her, Jesse mused. But maybe he needed to stop visiting her. Every time he saw the woman, he put her at greater risk. She would be safer without him. Maybe even happier without him. He took a swig. Maybe it was time he stop thinking about her.

.....

The house was maddeningly silent. You hated the quiet. Your thoughts were too loud, making you feel small and crushed. Everything was too much right now. Too loud. Too quiet. Too... burdensome. You absentmindedly fumbled with the gift in your hands.

He'd called the gift a display of his love. A symbol of his loyalty. You weren't sure what to call it.

Your boyfriend had left two hours ago, and with him left the noise. You sat in the same spot as when he had been there, unmoving.

When someone knocked at the door, it took you a few moments to process the sound. They knocked again. You didn't stand to get it, and eventually there was the sound of the lock clicking and the door opened.

Jesse had learned a month ago that when you didn't answer he could use the key hidden in your bushes.

"Hey, you home?" He asked, and you could hear him kicking off his boots. You could imagine it now, he'd take off his boots and hang his hat on the hook farthest to the left. He'd run his bionic hand through his messy hair. 

"Yeah." You spoke, standing up from the couch. You forced a smile onto your face and turned to see him. He grinned.

"Don't bother to get the door anymore?"

You forced a laugh, shaking your head while looking down at the floor. You couldn't meet his eye. You wrung your hands behind your back.

"You need anything?" Your voice was hoarse. Clearing your throat, you looked back up to him. He still stood in the doorway. His smile faltered, and suddenly he looked concerned. Your face fell, and you chewed on your bottom lip, eyes cast downwards. Jesse took a couple steps nearer to you. His voice was concerned and hushed when he spoke.

"Hey, is everything alright?" 

That was the tipping point. You'd held it together all day, despite all of the tragedy and craziness. The levee broke, and suddenly you were gasping for air in heaving gulps, tears pouring freely from your eyes. His arms were wrapped around you just as your legs gave out, you were limp in his hold. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears still finding their way from your eyes.

"Hey, hey, get it all out. It's ok. I've got you." Finally, you could get your limbs to work, and your arms wrapped around his abdomen, squeezing him tighter. His chestplate dug into your body, but you didn't care. You needed him right now. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling his scent. He smelled like smoke and whiskey, and it strangely calmed you down. 

Jesse sat down, still holding you. 

"You wanna talk 'bout it?"

"I had a patient die." You got out, digging your fingernails into his back in an attempt to feel closer. "God, Jesse! She was sixteen!" You anguished, shaking in his arms. His head rested on yours. You felt him strengthen his hold on you. "She's dead now." He was quiet as his fingertips ran up and down your spine. Your anguished cries were muffled by his body.

His grip on you didn't falter when your nails dug into his back through his shirt. You couldn't feel anything, your mind was a storming mess. You didn't notice when he started whispering into your ear. You didn't notice when he told you everything would be alright; that you would be fine. You didn't notice when he started to shake, and tears welled up in his dark brown eyes.

.....

Your sleep was restless. You were constantly drifting in and out of consciousness. Maybe it was the pounding headache or the stress that prevented your sleep, you weren't certain. You couldn't stay awake long enough to think, but couldn't stay asleep long enough to feel somewhat calm. When you woke to strangled cries at three AM, you weren't certain if you'd imagined them or not. When they repeated, in a louder and more desperate tone, you threw the sheets away from your body and raced to Jesse's room.

He sat straight up, his eyes wide. When you entered the room, his eyes went to you. Jesse clenched his eyes shut and you crossed the room, sitting down on the bed next to him. You were close, your arms hesitantly raised to hold him, before you slowly dropped them to your sides. Something felt wrong about this. He was quiet, his breaths quick and shallow. You ended up whispering to him.

"Nightmare?" 

"The same damn dream every night for a week." His voice broke.

"What happens?" 

"Bounty hunters hold a woman as hostage. She always dies."

You nodded slowly 

"Lets go somewhere. I don't want to sleep tonight." You murmured, standing up from his bed. He nodded. 

"Yeah."

.....

The car raced silently along the dark desert highway. You didn't know where you were going, you just needed to run away. Driving relaxed you. Jesse sat in the passenger seat, wearing the clothes you'd bought him. His hair was pulled back into a short low ponytail. His forehead rested on the cold window, his eyes staring at the empty desert. The highway was empty, illuminated by nothing but the moon, stars, and your headlights.

"I know a really cool spot up here on one of the mesas." You mused. "I used to drive there with my boyfriend every full moon, back when we were just friends." He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. 

"Let's see it then."

"I don't have a blanket. The rock is cold." 

"Why don't you wanna go it?" He mumbled, his eyes sliding back to the desert.

"We don't go anymore."

"Alright." He hummed in response. Tears welled up in your eyes, and suddenly they fell freely down your face. You slowed the car until it eventually stopped. Jesse sent you a look as you spun the wheel around and took the car off the highway onto a side road.

After thirty minutes, the road ended at the mesa. You parked the car and sat silently for a moment. 

"It's a forty five minute hike up to the top."

Jesse stared at you. His eyes were dull. 

"We don't have to."

"Yes we do."

.....

The night air was frigid, cutting through your sweatshirt with ease. The hike was quiet. The trail had been a popular spot thirty years ago, but after an accident the state police had shut it down. The trail was overgrown with shrubs and brush, but you knew your way by heart. Jesse followed close behind you, his feet crunching the dry plants and soil.

The stars were brilliant. The Milky Way galaxy shone bright above. In the suburbs where you lived, they weren't nearly as bright. The view from the top of the mesa was even more beautiful. You used to put a blanket down with your boyfriend and lie on your backs while you'd find constellations. Those nights stopped a month ago. 

Upon reaching the top, Jesse laughed.

"That's..." he didn't finish his sentence, his eyes glued to the heavens. 

"One of the most beautiful things on Earth." You murmured, sitting down on the cold rock. He sat down next to you, his brown eyes still looking up.

"Yeah." Jesse breathed. His eyes looked back down to you, a smile on his face. It faded when he saw the expression on yours. 

"You're beautiful." He whispered, so quiet you almost thought you'd imagined it. 

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head, a lump forming in your throat. 

"Stop."

His eyebrows drew together.

"Just- stop." You breathed, looking down at your hands. "Jesse..." Your eyes shut and a breathy sigh left your parted lips. "He proposed today. I- I said yes."

Jesse didn't stir, your words not processing in his mind for a few seconds. Finally he responded quietly.

"Ok."

"Ok."

You dropped onto your back, the freezing stones digging into your spine. Jesse still didn't move.

"Why?"

You scrunched up your face.

"You know very well why."

"No, I don't. You don't love him. I don't think you even like him. He proposed 'cause his pops wanted him to. The two of you just ain't gonna work." Anger flared up in you at his words. This was out of line, even for him. 

"Jesse! Stop it!" 

"No! Not 'til you admit it! Why d'you do this to yourself?! Neither one o'you is happy!" 

"I'm not happy, or you're not happy Jesse?!" 

"Oh go to hell." He shot back. You jolted upright, meeting his eyes with a heated venomous stare. He held your glare evenly. You hopped to your feet and started down the mesa, leaving Jesse under the cold glittering stars.

.....

You hated Jesse because you knew he was right. You didn't love your fiancé. Your fiancé didn't love you, his father had always wanted him to marry you, and because you'd saved his father's life, your fiancé felt obligated. Or some messed up shit like that. You didn't care anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legit. Alright, I'm gonna be working on some more one-shots for a while, but stay tuned because this isn't near finished.  
> <3 Nomelah


	5. Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year since you last saw the man. So much had changed. Some for the better, some for the worse.

"It's been a while." Jesse murmured, his eyes downcast. His hat was in his hands, his fists clenched around the brim of the anachronistic item. You looked him up and down quickly, avoiding his eyes. He had gained a couple inches, and his muscle mass had definitely increased. He'd gained a couple clothing items too, a red serape poncho and new boots. You noticed the BAMF belt buckle, and you fought to keep a straight face. Finally you looked to his face, and the smile that had been fighting to show was extinguished. Jesse had a beard now, and a mustache could be found. His lips were chapped. His skin sun tanned. And then you met his eyes. They were still that same deep, dark brown. But there was something different. His brows still pulled down over them, but there was something... else in his eyes. You stared for a few more moments before finally tearing your eyes away, clearing your throat. You found your voice.

"A year." 

"I figured you didn't want to see any o' me." His voice was quiet.

"I thought you were dead." Your tone was even, and you found yourself surprised that you'd sounded so apathetic. He bit his lip, you found yourself unable to look away from his face. His eyes wouldn't meet yours though. 

"I s'posed as much." And then silence. You took a step forward towards the porch steps. Jesse stood on the pathway up to the porch, looking up at you. Nobody moved, and nobody spoke. A cold gust of air hit you, and you shivered. It was late, you'd been wearing a tee shirt and underwear. The wind cut through them like a knife, raising goosebumps along your arms. 

You turned around, stepping into your house and leaving Jesse alone outside. You made your way to the kitchen, snatching your car keys and wallet from the hook by the door and grabbing a pair of leggings and a sweater you'd folded earlier that day. Jesse was sitting on the sidewalk when you came back out, he stood quickly, his eyes wide. 

"Let's go." You hopped down from the porch, slamming the door.

.....

"Your husband? Won't he-" After an hour of silence and the dark highway, Jesse was first to speak. You interrupted quickly.

"We never got married." 

"Oh." The car was quiet for a few more moments as he absorbed this information and its meaning. You felt a lump form in your throat, and tears stung your eyes. 

"He was seeing someone else. He had the decency to tell me, which still isn't saying much." You cleared your throat, wiping a hand over your eyes. Jesse stared at you with an unreadable expression on his face. 

"'M sorry." He murmured. You shook your head, biting your lip and glancing over to him. Jesse's eyes stayed locked onto yours. You looked back to the road. 

"No. It wasn't your fault." Taking a deep shuddering breath in, you continued. "You were right, you know. It's why I was so angry at you." Glancing back over to the man, a faint sad smile appeared on your face. "I never did love him. I knew he didn't love me either." 

Jesse stayed quiet. His eyes went back to the road. You nodded, biting your lip. 

"Life." You laughed, shaking your head and blinking in attempt to clear the tears from your eyes. Jesse's face turned to look at you again, his brows knit together over his eyes. 

"Yeah." He mumbled, his gaze returning to the road. You glanced at the time. 12:47 AM. You were quiet for a few seconds.

"Do you want something to eat?"

.....

The waitress gave your orders to the omnic in the kitchen, her voice tired and dull. She grabbed a pot of coffee and made her way to your booth, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. She slowly poured the coffee into your half empty mugs. Her chipped red polished nails tapped the linoleum tabletop. A permanently exhausted expression was worn into her once pretty face. Her uniform was wrinkled and a stain soiled the baby blue skirt. With a tired smile, she left you and Jesse alone.

"Mighty kind ma'am." He murmured, raising a hand in thanks. "So what about your work?"

"I finished residency." Your cold hands wrapped around the coffee mug, bringing it up to your lips. Steam hit your face, and you blew on the coffee to cool it before taking a tentative sip. It still burnt your tongue.

"I sold my house and all my things. I don't know what I'm doing next." You murmured, gently setting the mug down on the table. "I was thinking of traveling." Your eyes were cast down. "But I was staying as long as I could, I didn't..." You sighed. "I didn't want you to come back and not find me." 

Glancing up, you found his eyes glued to yours, an intense expression in them. You swallowed, afraid to look away. He spoke.

"I missed you." Your chest clenched up, and for the second time that night, you felt tears well up in your eyes. Blinking them away, you shook your head, trying to smile. 

"You too."

He sighed, looking down at the table and rubbing his forehead. You watched him for a moment, before swallowing and asking the question that had eaten at your insides since he showed up earlier that night. 

"Why'd you come back?" Your tone was surprisingly accusatory, and you felt a pang of guilt at it, but a sudden rush of anger flared up. Jesse looked up at you with surprise on his face, his hand still on his forehead. "Well? What made you return?" 

"I..." He stuttered. 

"Answer." Your tone was sharp, but it was the product of a million emotions. Anger. Sadness. Confusion. Loneliness. 

"There was a recall. I was up in New England, got a message on a private channel. They're callin' m' back." Confusion hit you like a train, and you leaned back onto the booth cushion. Jesse paused to let you absorb this information. What did he mean, there was a recall? Where was he going? And then it hit you. Overwatch was called back together. 

"That's illegal." You mumbled.

"Huh?"

"It's illegal." You got out, a bit stronger this time. Jesse smirked, and you felt something in you flutter at this expression. 

"Darlin', when have you known me to do anything legal?" He chuckled, but his face grew serious again, and you felt dread set in. "I'm going to Gibraltar in a week. I just wanted to say goodbye." There it was. You swallowed, nodding your head slowly. 

"Alright."

"That's it?" 

"What am I supposed to say to that?" 

"I dunno."

"Neither do I." You were quiet, your nails tapping the table nervously. A plate was set down on the table in front of you, and you were snapped from your stupor. You glanced up at the Omnic woman who had delivered it and smiled. "Thank you." 

"Of course." The Omnic spoke, gently setting Jesse's plate down. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" You glanced to Jesse, who shook his head quickly. 

"We're good." She nodded, turning to leave. You looked down to your plate, and your stomach growled. Nothing better than pancakes and eggs with sausages at 1:30 AM. Jesse was already digging into his, and you grinned as he met your eye. He sent you a closed smile, his cheeks stuffed with scrambled eggs and hash browns. You poured syrup over the pancakes, and before you knew it, half of your plate was gone. The next few minutes were spent scarfing up breakfast food until both of your plates were empty. 

You payed, and on your way out, you left twenties for both of the women. With Jesse close behind, you hopped into the car, pushing your hair back from your eyes. Jesse watched you for a moment before resting his head on the window. 

.....

The blue and orange neon lights glowed on the street. Golden rays of light were cast onto the ground from the streetlights. Main Street was empty at this hour. It was unsurprising, small towns typically had little to no nightlife. You parallel parked the car in front of the hotel. Jesse was asleep, his breath creating fog on the window and his face smooshed up into the glass. You smirked for a moment, and before waking him up, you took a picture. Tucking the phone away, you nudged his arm. He mumbled something, slowly waking. 

"Come on. We're at a hotel."

You unbuckled your seatbelt, opening the door and climbing out of the car, stretching quickly. Jesse slowly followed suit, grabbing the few things he had from the car. He held open the door to the old hotel, and you slipped inside. An Omnic sat at the front desk, seemingly preoccupied.

"Hello, could we get a standard room?"

The Omnic glanced up at you as he pulled up his sleeves. 

"Of course. Any floor preference?" You shook your head. 

"The top floor." Jesse's voice rang out from behind you. A glance back at him showed he was grinning. You rolled your eyes, a smile finding its way onto your face. The Omnic nodded.

"That's $45." You exchanged your card for the room key, and waited as he continued to speak. "That's for room 405, it's a nonsmoking room, but it has a balcony if you want to. We don't offer a complimentary breakfast, but the gas station across the street sells breakfast food." He handed the card back to you, and you smiled in thanks. "Have a nice night."

The room was cramped, the furniture too large for the small space. Two double beds were pushed against the wall, facing a small TV. 

"What d'you wanna bet there's nothing on?" You muttered, flopping onto the bed near the balcony. Jesse glanced at the TV as he pulled his hat off and flung it onto the unoccupied bed. He shrugged as you snatched up the remote, flicking the TV on. A golf match was plastered onto the screen. You flipped channels. Gospel of Christ. An infomercial. The news. Commercials. Before you could switch channels again, Jesse intervened.

"Switch back."

"Huh?" You glanced to him, a deadly serious expression on his face. 

"I said switch the channel." Without speaking, you flicked the channel back to the news. A story on a terrorist attack was being broadcasted from Amsterdam.

Your jaw dropped, and a glance at Jesse showed him closing his eyes and clenching his teeth shut.

"I need to get back." He murmured. You nodded shakily, ignoring the surge of emotion that came with his words. You stood up from the bed.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower." 

.....

Steam from the shower fogged the mirror and accumulated on your bare skin. Your hands gripped the sides of the sink as you stared at your blurry reflection. Your sweater and leggings lied crumpled in a pile in the corner. You swiped the water from the mirror and stared for a moment longer. Agitation bubbled up under your skin, and you pushed away from the mirror, leaving your reflection. 

You slid the shower door open and clambered in. The scalding water burnt your skin and stung your body. You hissed, your hand fumbling with the slippery knob as you lowered the temperature. The water turned icy cold, and you gasped, the contrast shocking. You grasped the knob and turned it back to the hot water. Burning was better than freezing. 

Your skin turned red under the water. You squeezed the hotel shampoo into your hand and lathered it into your hair. The hot air in the cramped room made you lightheaded. You needed fresh air. Jets of water rinsed the suds from your locks. Working conditioner into your hair, you allowed yourself to think about Jesse. You didn't want him to leave. You didn't want to admit that maybe you relied on him too much, or that you'd miss him. 

You weren't certain how you felt about him. He was definitely a friend, even though he got on your nerves, and said inappropriate things about your life, and he easily got under your skin. But you still felt... something towards him. 

You slipped the tee shirt and underwear back on. You'd need to go shopping for more clothes later, you didn't think you'd be returning to that house any longer. You entered the room to find Jesse still watching the news, a tired expression on his face. With a sigh, you dropped your hair towel onto your bed. 

"Any update?"

"They targeted a block of bots in Amsterdam with an EMP." His voice was low and deadly, his eyes dark with an unreadable expression. With a sigh, you crossed the room to his bed. Jesse kept his focus on the screen. 

"You want to be part of Overwatch again. To prevent this stuff, right?" He glanced up at you. "Well you're going back. You already said so. Getting angry about it now won't help anybody. You have a right to your emotions. Just... I don't know." Your words faltered. His eyes remained glued to you. Biting your lip, you sat down next to him on the bed, your legs hanging over the edge. Your voice was a hushed whisper when you continued, your eyes cast down at your hands. "I'm going to miss you."

"Yeah. I'm gonna miss 'ya too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwaahahahahahhah  
> Alrighty then, pt. 6 coming soon. Hope you enjoyed! As always, I love constructive criticism and comments, so if you feel comfortable doing so I'd love to see what you guys think so far! Love you all!  
> -Nomelah


End file.
